1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4with cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown
5How it suprised us pale grey underlings
6whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
9Platonic Greece was not so talentless
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress
12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13the Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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